Weapons of Destruction
by Harkpad
Summary: Steve can't sleep after they get back from the shawarma shop, and he finds Bruce awake reading a journal. He tries to reassure Banner of his place, and it might just have worked.


Steve didn't really want to go to the shawarma shop, whatever that was, but he was so used to just rolling with what others wanted him to do lately that he didn't protest as Stark led them trudging down the street in search of some food that was supposed to 'rock,' whatever that meant. He had spent the last month doing training drills, boxing, and reading up on the twenty-first century. He hadn't gotten out much, and he certainly didn't understand the slang yet.

Steve understood the term 'rock' as soon as he took his first bite, though. He was hungry and this was delicious. Some sort of slow-cooked meat, tomatoes, lettuce, some sort of white sauce that he thought about asking for in a glass to drink straight, and grilled onions. He ate three. Stark just sort of gaped at him as he ordered and devoured his third one, but Steve just shrugged and said, "It's good."

The others were eating quietly, and Steve wasn't sure if Banner had gotten anything. He just sat there with a bemused look on his face and watched Steve eat.

Of course, as soon as Steve finished his third shawarma, he crashed. The others were still picking at their food, and Steve rested his chin on his fist and leaned over in his chair. He didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes until he felt a hand on his back and Banner was leaning over him saying, "Come on, Captain. We'll head back and get some rest." Steve looked up at him and just nodded, stood up (trying not to sway on his feet), and followed Banner and the rest of them out of the shop. He watched as Stark and Thor led the way, Natasha and Clint walked shoulder to shoulder, and Banner stayed with Steve, seemingly keeping an eye on him.

"You okay, Captain?" he asked as they made their way down the street to the S.H.I.E.L.D van that Stark had called for as they ate.

(That was amusing to listen to. Stark, hunched over his food, mumbling around a bite, "The shawarma shop on 40th. The one by the bank. Just send a van in about fifteen minutes. Yes, we're eating. Celebration dinner, give us a goddamned break!" and then Stark had hung up on them. Steve just shook his head in amazement.)

He looked over at Banner, walking beside him, eyes full of concern.

"I'm okay, Dr. Banner. Just a little tired." He stopped for a moment, registering in his weary state that the doctor hadn't eaten even though he'd just spent the better part of the afternoon as a raging monster who tipped the fight in their favor. He looked down at the shorter man and asked, "Are you okay? You didn't eat."

Banner seemed surprised that Steve asked, or maybe he was surprised that Steve had noticed him not eating, and he replied, "I'm okay. I spend a lot of time nauseous shortly after I . . . lose my temper. I'll eat later and make up for it." He paused and grinned at Steve, "Dunno if I'll manage three shawarmas, but I'll eat."

Steve laughed and began walking again, and by the time the two men reached the S.H.I.E.L.D van he was wondering if he'd make it back to base without falling asleep. Thor helped him into the van and then offered Banner a hand, and Steve noticed that the doctor looked at Thor's hand held out to him in surprise.

Stark spent the ride back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters on the phone with someone and the others sat quietly. When they arrived at the base outside the city, Fury was waiting.

He ushered them to a briefing room and Steve did his best to explain what he had observed that afternoon. The others chimed in appropriately, and the briefing was over fairly quickly. Steve looked at his companions and saw the fatigue, the shock, and the astonishment as they recounted the destruction of the afternoon and as Fury showed the photos and footage that had been collected.

Finally, they were dismissed. Steve got into his room and out of his uniform as quickly as he could, and he fell into bed after he had a shower.

When he still couldn't fall asleep an hour later, he was angry. He was exhausted. Wiped out. But his mind kept replaying the day, and his body wouldn't settle. Finally he got up, pulled on some jogging pants and a t-shirt, and headed down to the lobby area of the quarters.

There was a pale blue couch and a couple of what Steve called 'soup bowl chairs' (he knew they had a different name, but 'they look like soup bowls' was his first reaction and it stuck), as well as a glass coffee table and a lamp.

Dr. Banner was sitting on the couch holding a plate full of brown noodles topped with an assortment of vegetables, a journal of some sort spread out next to him. He had changed into jeans and a clean button down shirt, and he had his glasses on and was engrossed in eating and reading. He looked over the rims of his glasses when Steve sat down in one of the soup bowl chairs next to him.

"Captain," he said with a concerned tone.

"Dr. Banner," Steve replied. "Finally feeling up to eating, huh?"

Banner grinned, "Yes." He gestured toward the small kitchen behind them. "There's some more left, if you'd like some. It's not shawarma, but it's pretty good."

Steve chuckled, "No, thanks. I'm fine."

Banner's face got serious. "You're still awake. That means you're probably not fine, actually."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. "No, I'm okay, really. Just wound up after today." He paused and then added, "I haven't seen that kind of action since . . . I'm just having trouble relaxing."

Dr. Banner nodded, took a bite of his food, and sat back on the couch. The two men sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes while Banner ate and Steve tried to relax in the chair. He regarded the scientist sitting across from him and marveled at the thought of the same person becoming a raging mass of anger and violence in mere moments and then, hours later, sitting here eating noodles and reading a science journal.

"They said you'd gone a year without any change. Before today," Steve said suddenly.

The doctor set his plate down on the coffee table in front of him and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He stared at the plate for a minute, and finally looked back up at Steve and just nodded.

Steve leaned forward and wiped his face again. God, he was tired. "A year is good, right?"

Banner nodded, leaning back against the back of the couch again.

"It had been seventy years since I'd done any real fighting until today," Steve said softly, staring at the floor. "I wasn't sure I was ready."

Banner chuckled, "I don't worry about that too much in my . . . situation."

Steve nodded and looked up. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't help, huh?"

"Nope. Point him in the right direction and he'll bust something up," Banner replied sarcastically.

"Well," Steve countered, "That's true of all of us, isn't it?"

Banner looked away sharply, and, after a deep breath, reached down and closed the journal he was reading. He stood, picking up the plate of unfinished food and headed back toward the kitchen.

"Doctor?" Steve called, standing and following, "I didn't mean to offend you."

Banner ignored him and went into the kitchen, set his plate in the sink, and turned back to Steve. His face was hard and Steve noticed his fists were clenched. He wondered through his tired haze if he should be afraid. He didn't think so.

"It's not true of all of you at all, Captain. Not at all."

Steve raised an eyebrow, "You think we're not weapons?"

Banner shook his head, "You're weapons who choose to be weapons. You volunteered for the experiment, Tony built his suit, Hawkeye and Natasha honed their skills, and Thor was born for it. I'm just a doctor. I wanted to build something. I wanted to find something that would help people."

"You have," Steve countered. Banner looked puzzled, and Steve stepped toward him, hand outstretched. "You've found something here. If you let us, we'll make sure you help people, even when you're him. You can keep doing your work."

Banner stared at Steve's hand for a moment, and then stepped to meet him and shook it.

"You should get some sleep, Captain," he said. "Doctor's orders."

Steve grinned and headed back to his bunk. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.


End file.
